Pinball Update: How Much Trouble Am I In?

Sure, like a lot of people, I have my weaknesses. I'm not going to air out all of my dirty laundry in this post, but I will tell you that gambling isn't one of my problems. There is no way I'd walk into a casino and make a $300 bet. In my world that would be crazy. I don't even kick in for the dollar upgrade when I buy a Powerball ticket. But right now I've got a 300-pound gamble in my basement. 

Is it going to be a pinball machine, or is it going to be a coffee table? 

As you can see in the previous post's pictures, my pinball machine came in two large pieces: the cabinet and the light box. 

It also came with four rusty chrome legs. I used my bench grinder's wire brush to remove the worst of the rust, and then I buffed out the legs with chrome polish. I also installed new leg levelers.

The next step was to tilt the cabinet onto its front legs, and then lift the back high enough to get the rear legs attached. I used a coffee table and a thick phone book to hold the machine level while I turned the leg bolts into place.

Daphne helped me lift the light box onto the back of the cabinet - I was afraid of slipping and breaking the back glass. I bolted the light box onto the cabinet, and then connected the two cables and the four jones plug connectors.

Now it looked like a pinball machine. But would it play like one? I plugged it in, held my breath, and pressed the power button underneath the cabinet.

About 70 percent of the lights came on, and I could hear a faint hum coming from within the beast. I sucked in my breath for the second time, and I pressed the credit button on the front door.

It whirled, whirred, banged, and coughed out a filthy, silver spitball. Only three of the nine drop targets popped into position, and the flippers buzzed like an electric razor. One of the score reels for player one showed half of an eight and half of a nine.

I spun around and gave Daphne a high five. It was limping, but it was alive!